


your eyes look like coming home

by MissSugarPlum



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (and then the outing of a secret relationship), (with a tiny bit of angst thrown in for good measure), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Blowjobs, Not beta-read, Secret Relationship, Slice of Life, basically just me getting out my wedding feels, beware the nonlinear narrative, in pure coldflash form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5762554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSugarPlum/pseuds/MissSugarPlum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len checks his reflection in the long mirror before him, clenches his fists tightly before forcing his hands to relax, exhaling slowly, shaking the tension from his arms.</p><p>He is cool, he is calm, he is collected.</p><p>He can do this.</p><p>-x-</p><p>(alternatively: <i>you'll be mine and i'll be yours</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	your eyes look like coming home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trespresh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trespresh/gifts), [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts).



> For Hannah and Jamie; they both know why.
> 
> SO. As you all may or may not know (mostly because I can't shut up about it on tumblr), I'm getting married in just about three and a half months (!!!!!!!), and [these](http://dragdragdragon.tumblr.com) [two](http://stressbarry.tumblr.com) jerks hit me right in the feels with suggestions and prompts and story ideas right in the midst of my going crazy about wedding details (and seriously, do not get me started, I will talk your goddamn EARS off about all my wedding crap, okay, this is not a can of worms you want to open).
> 
> No, really, I love you both to absolute pieces, I hope you enjoy the monstrosity this has turned into! (Seriously, it was only supposed to be like two scenes and 2k _max_. ~~lmao, my life~~ )
> 
> (Also, seriously take note of the tag at the top - this story jumps around ridiculously, time-wise, and it hasn't been beta'd or looked over _at all_ , so I'm basically just crossing my fingers and hoping it makes sense. :&)
> 
> (Title from Taylor and Ed and their fabulous duet, Everything Has Changed)

( _you’ll be mine and i’ll be yours_ )

 

-x-

 

Len checks his reflection in the long mirror before him, clenches his fists tightly before forcing his hands to relax, exhaling slowly, shaking the tension from his arms.

 

He is cool, he is calm, he is collected.

 

He can do this.

 

A knock sounds at the door, and he watches the reflection of his sister peek her head in the small room cautiously. “Are you ready yet? It’s almost time.”

 

Len inhales deeply through his nose, closes his eyes, wills his fingers not to shake. “Almost,” he says, blinking his eyes open again. He clears his throat raggedly, and Lisa’s eyes soften minutely as she steps fully into the room.

 

“It’s okay to be nervous, Lenny, this is kind of a big deal.” She steps up behind him, smooths a hand over his shoulder and props her chin over the other. Len fixes a flat look upon her reflected face.

 

“I’m not nervous.” He carefully ignores Mick, who snorts in disbelief from his backward perch on a folding chair next to the mirror.

 

“Could’a fooled me,” Mick grumbles to himself, shaking his head with exasperated fondness, and the set of Lisa’s eyebrows indicates she agrees with him. Her phone chimes once, and she glances at it briefly before shoving it back into her bright gold clutch.

 

“Come on, it’s time.” She squeezes his shoulder delicately, turns her head to press a soft kiss to his cheek affectionately. “Let’s get you married.”

 

-x-

 

Barry hadn’t been planning on saying the words.

 

(Not that much of what comes out of his mouth is planned, but this even less so.)

 

It’s a peaceful evening in, something Barry has taken to reveling in, especially since the defeat of Zoom and the departure of their Earth-2 friends. The precinct has been quiet recently, which has put Captain Singh, and therefore Barry and the rest of the force, in a stellar mood, and the streets had been calm during Barry’s nightly patrol as the Flash. There have been no major crimes, no villainous new metas to look out for, and as for the old ones—

 

Well. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about Captain Cold, at the very least. _Not tonight_ , he thinks in amusement, watching as the very man himself flops down onto the couch next to him, hand automatically reaching out to stroke along the inside of Barry’s knee.

 

Barry shivers at the sensation, then rolls his eyes at the crooked smile the involuntary action elicits from Len. “You have such a one-track mind sometimes,” he complains mildly, though he does nothing to stop the movement of Len’s hand, instead settling further down into the cushions.

 

“So do you.” Len gently slaps a takeout menu down onto Barry’s lap. “I could hear your stomach growling from the kitchen.”

 

“Shut up, you could not.”

 

“Of course not,” Len agrees, mouth twisting mischievously, “but I know you. Just place the order, alright?”

 

Barry grins, brushes a kiss against Len’s cheek softly before fishing his phone out of the nest of blankets he’d thrown off earlier. He dials absentmindedly, mentally reviewing the huge list of food he’s about to order and trying to not get distracted by the way Len’s fingers are still moving, slowly but steadily, further and further up his leg.

 

He looks up when they get just a little too far, ready to admonish Len, playfully scold him, because really, he can’t stop briefly, just while Barry’s on the phone? And he knows what he’s doing to Barry, he has to know—but Barry stops short at the look on Len’s face, the way his grin is so wide and open, the happy sparkle in Len’s light eyes, how he looks so joyously content and at peace, like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than in this moment, right here and right now, and Barry stares, absolutely enchanted, breath knocked out of his lungs, captivated by the sudden understanding that this is because of _him_ , that all of this is _his_.

 

_“Roadhouse Pizza, will this be for pickup or delivery?”_

 

“I love you,” Barry blurts, and Len’s eyes widen, his mouth drops open slightly on a silent gasp.

 

_“I’m sorry, what?”_

 

“Oh, no, not you! I—I am so sorry—wrong number, sorry, I—I gotta go,” Barry fumbles out, and he drops the phone, doesn’t even make sure he’s hung up properly, before turning to face Len fully. “Um.” He stops, not sure what to say, his mind a complete blank for once in his life.

 

Len says nothing, just continues to stare. His eyes are still wide, almost disbelieving, and Barry finds himself rushing to reassure him without any clear idea of what he’s going to say.

 

“Okay, so that—that happened,” he says lamely, and he rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “And, okay, obviously I didn’t really mean to say it, it just sort of came out”—Len’s whole face shuts down, eyes tightening, and he moves to retreat from Barry—Barry reaches out at superspeed, grabs at Len’s arm frantically, wanting to punch himself for the way his words sound. “No, _no_ , that is _not_ what I meant, _god_ no, I just wasn’t planning on—oh, fuck it.” He shifts forward, cups Len’s face with both hands gently.

 

“Barry,” Len whispers, “what are you—”

 

“Leonard Snart,” Barry interrupts, staring earnestly into shockingly uncertain blue eyes. “Len,” he says, more tenderly. “I love you.”

 

He doesn’t give Len a chance to respond—perhaps doesn’t want to know how Len may or may not respond—just presses in close, kisses Len softly, pouring every ounce of emotion, every little bit of _love_ into the kiss that he can. He tries to say, without words, that just this is okay, that Len doesn’t need to say the words back, that _he_ doesn’t need Len to say it, and by the way Len seems to sag against him before kissing back in earnest, he assumes Len understands.

 

Barry is therefore surprised when several minutes later, after they’ve broken the kiss but have continued to sit there, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s breath and lips brushing softly with every minute movement they each make, Len opens his mouth, steels himself, and then says, “I love you too, Barry, of course I do. Now would you please pick up your phone and order us some damn food? I’m starving.”

 

Barry laughs, a little relieved but mostly just overjoyed, feeling intoxicated from the sound of those words passing Len’s lips and full to bursting with so much emotion, so much _love_ , and he does nothing but kiss Len again and again and again, never wanting to stop.

 

(He does order food for them… eventually.)

 

-x-

 

“Come on!”

 

“Barry, where are we going?”

 

“Shhh!” Barry whisper-shouts, finger over his widely smiling lips. “We’re sneaking off for a minute.”

 

“This is _our_ wedding, I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be _sneaking off_ ,” Len points out grumblingly, though he lets himself be pulled along by his husband.

 

 _His husband_.

 

The words will take some getting used to, but Len already relishes the warm, pleasant curl in his chest whenever he thinks them.

 

“Right, it’s _our wedding_ , we can do whatever we want,” Barry huffs out, then turns abruptly and yanks Len through a narrow doorway.

 

Len blinks in the low light, disoriented by the sudden change. His eyes adjust, and he realizes with some befuddlement that Barry has dragged him into a coat closet.

 

“What are we doing in here?” he tries to ask, but his voice comes out muffled—probably largely due to the mouth suddenly smashed up against his.

 

It’s awkward for the first second and then Barry shifts, tilts his head just so, and Len moans into the suddenly steamy kiss, pulling Barry flush against him, desperate for any amount of friction—Barry looks absolutely _divine_ in his tuxedo, all streamlined and sharp-shouldered and with a bow tie covering up the _delectable_ expanse of skin Len knows is hiding just underneath—he wants to rip it off with his _teeth_ , and then he thinks _Why not?_ to himself almost whimsically, decides to do just that.

 

Barry gasps at the first bite of Len’s teeth at his throat, then growls and pulls Len back up for a harsh kiss. “Been wanting—to get away—all night,” he pants between deep, dragging kisses, hands clutching at the fabric covering Len’s chest. “The way you look in that tux—”

 

“The way _you_ look,” Len rumbles back, fingers digging into Barry’s hips, helpless against the urge to rut forward, pressing the hardening bulge in his pants against the firm one in Barry’s. He groans, throws his head back at the friction the movement causes, grimacing a little because these pants were _not_ tailored with erections in mind, but feeling too good to truly care about ruining the clothes.

 

( _Lisa will murder you if you ruin this suit_ , his mind supplies. He wilfully ignores it.)

 

Len guides Barry back by his hips, fumbling almost blindly against the few coats hanging, then grins against Barry’s mouth when he hits the wall. “Stay there, _husband_ ,” he whispers wickedly against swollen red lips, and he presses his hips once more into Barry’s, unable to help himself, before dropping to his knees and reaching for his new husband’s ridiculously expensive pants.

 

A dull _thunk_ echoes quietly in the small room, and Len peeks up to see that Barry has let his head fall back against the wall. “ _Husband_ ,” Barry whispers quietly, almost to himself, and Len is so enamored with the goofy grin on his face he doesn’t even think to tease him.

 

“Husband,” Len says again, quieter this time, reverent, hands moving deftly inside Barry’s pants but eyes still locked on his face, greedily taking in the sight of Barry Allen, happier than perhaps he’s ever seen him, eyes sparkling brightly in the darkness surrounding them, cheeks flushed, mouth curled up in a soft, crooked grin…

 

Len belatedly realizes he’s gone still, doing nothing but stare stupidly up at Barry, only when Barry tilts his head to the side with his brow slightly furrowed. “Hey, you okay down there?” he murmurs, running a gentle hand over the back of Len’s head, and Len leans into the touch briefly, just taking this moment in time to simply revel in the euphoria of being with the man he loves.

 

“I love you,” he breathes in lieu of an answer, and the way Barry’s entire face both softens and lights up (even _more_ , how is that even possible, Barry Allen is a wonder) has Len’s heart stuttering in his chest.

 

“ _God_ , I love you,” Barry whispers in return, fingers tightening briefly on Len’s head before relaxing again. “So much.”

 

Len just smiles for a moment before deciding to get back to the task at hand, pulling Barry’s hard cock from the confines of his underwear. “I can tell,” he says, smirking, and Barry scoffs above him.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grouses good-naturedly. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth— _ahh_!”

 

Len bobs his head once, twice, relishing the thick weight on his tongue and the musky scent filling his nose, before letting go with a _pop_. “You were saying?” he asks casually, thumbing at the underside of Barry’s cock, and Barry groans.

 

“No fair, I wanted to be the first one to give a blowjob in this marriage,” Barry mumbles petulantly, and Len raises a playfully questioning eyebrow even as his own cock twitches at the thought.

 

“Are you saying you want me to stop? Because I can stop.” He’s probably lying—Len is nothing if not honest with himself, and the urge to fit his lips around Barry again, push forward until he can feel him at the back of his throat and swallow him down, is overwhelmingly strong—but teasing Barry, riling him up, is one of Len’s favorite hobbies, the rush better than even a perfect heist.

 

“Don’t you dare,” Barry threatens breathily, and Len snorts out a fond laugh, fingers trailing teasingly over the soft skin of Barry’s cock and making Barry moan.

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

(When they finally get back to the reception, Len with wrinkles in his pants and a flush high in his cheeks, Barry with mussed hair and missing his bowtie, Iris laughs knowingly, Cisco wolf whistles while Caitlin just groans, and everyone else pretends not to notice as Lisa glares with murder in her eyes.)

 

-x-

 

“Okay!” Iris laughs loudly, eyes bright as she sways slightly, and Linda lunges for her as her wine glass tips dangerously. “Okay, okay—thanks, babe, you’re the best—okay, shh, I’ve got one, I’ve got one!”

 

The entire ragtag group of heroes and Rogues perks up, some drunkenly and some not. It’s been a long, ridiculous night, full of food and laughs and alcohol and plenty of snark, and they’ve been playing an on-again, off-again game of “Never Have I Ever” throughout the entire evening.

 

“Never have I ever,” Iris declares loudly, “been in a pair of handcuffs!” She smirks at everyone around her, though the effect is ruined somewhat by the large gulp of wine she inhales directly after, ignoring the rules of the game almost entirely.

 

“You’re a cop’s daughter, how is that even possible?” Hartley complains as most of the group groans and takes sips from their drinks.

 

“I was the good kid,” Iris says, triumphantly eyeing Barry, who is rolling his eyes but drinking from his almost-empty cup nonetheless.

 

“Yeah, yeah, pick on the adopted problem child,” he grumbles good-naturedly, and Caitlin chortles at him from her perch on the arm of Hartley’s chair, cup still mostly full.

 

“Why do you think I said it?” Iris asks with a laugh. She waves a lazy hand at the Rogues present, who have all taken sips from their drinks. “The rest of them were just icing on the cake.”

 

Barry glares at her over the rim of his cup, and Iris just blows him a kiss in response.

 

“My turn!” Lisa pipes up, and her sharp grin is slightly worrying, especially considering the way Len starts to side-eye her warily even though the rest of them are mostly watching eagerly. Lisa had come up with some of the best questions of the night, ranging from _“Never have I ever been to a church and a gay bar on the same day,”_ which had Hartley, Len, Shawna, and surprisingly Caitlin (“It was Ronnie’s fault,” she’d said embarrassedly, then refused to elaborate more) reaching for their drinks, to _“Never have I ever given a guy a blowjob,”_ which had Len wrinkling his nose in disgust (because there are just some things you _do not_ want to know about your baby sister, no matter what) but had forced everyone except Cisco to drink. (The two had high-fived after, beaming about having that in common, and everyone else had rolled their eyes at the pair.)

 

“Never have I ever…” Lisa drawls slowly, clearly enjoying the way everyone is hanging onto her words, “secretly dated a guy I probably wasn’t supposed to, and lied to my friends and family for _months_ about it.” She crosses her arms, smug.

 

Iris _harrumphs_ in disappointment. “So this is payback, okay.”

 

Lisa flicks her eyes to Iris, amusedly watching as she chugs another gulp of wine. “Actually, you weren’t my target,” she says idly. “Though it’s nice to catch someone else in my net.” She casts her gaze around the loose circle, expectant.

 

Nothing happens for a beat, two, and then—

 

Barry grits his teeth, throws Lisa the nastiest look he can muster, given the amount of alcohol in his system (and honestly, he doesn’t know whether to curse Cisco and Caitlin or thank them for creating a drink that can actually affect him), and knocks back the rest of what’s in his cup.

 

Iris immediately rounds on him, and next to Barry, Cisco flinches back at the look on her face. “ _Who have you been secretly dating?_ ” she screeches, and Barry winces both at the volume and the pitch.

 

He opens his mouth to—he doesn’t know, say something, do anything, but Cisco’s choked-out _“What the hell?!”_ interrupts him before he has a chance to embarrass himself.

 

Because Leonard Snart, looking as grumpy as he ever does, has just taken a swig of his drink.

 

The room is silent for several long, _long_ moments, and then Shawna breaks it by loudly complaining, “Why are the hot ones _always_ gay? _And_ taken?” and Hartley laughs so hard he cries.

 

And that is how Lisa outs Captain Cold and the Flash to their families and friends.

 

-x-

 

Len enters the shop warily, feeling wildly uncomfortable. He’s dressed down today, nothing but a pair of dark denims and a long-sleeved henley, and he’s never felt more exposed, wishing desperately for the protection of the cold gun and one of his many parkas. It’s a weird sensation, and Len feels it like an ever-present itch at the back of his neck.

 

He’s been in plenty of jewelry stores before, but never with the express purpose of actually _buying_ something. But this is something he doesn’t want to steal—he wants to do this _right_.

 

It’s a strange thought.

 

“Good afternoon!” greets a sales clerk, walking confidently up to Len. “What can I help you with today?”

 

“Hi. I need…” He stops, clears his throat, before soldiering on. “I need an engagement ring.”

 

The clerk’s face brightens instantly. “Fantastic! We have a great selection of rings over here, if you’d like to follow me this way?” The woman, _Amy_ according to her nametag, leads him to a corner of the store, walking sideways so she can maintain contact with him. “Man or woman?”

 

Len blinks. “I’m sorry?”

 

Amy laughs. “Is your fiancé-to-be a man or a woman?” she repeats kindly. “I like to ask up front—keeps me from looking like an ass when I guess incorrectly,” she confides, and Len feels the corners of his mouth twitching up.

 

“He is definitely a man,” Len answers, already feeling slightly more at ease, and Amy grins at him.

 

“Tell me about him,” she requests. “What’s his name?”

 

“Barry. His name is Barry,” Len says as they come to a stop in front of a sparkling display. “He’s…” Len stops, thinks of Barry’s bright grin, his infectious laugh, the way his eyes always light up in joy when he sees Len, the soft smile Len gets to see when it’s just the two of them, the look in his eyes when he says _I love you_ , the way he looks at Len sometimes, like Len is his entire world…

 

“He’s incredible,” Len finishes lamely, at a loss of how to describe the amazing man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Amy has been half-considering the rings in the display, frowning over some and murmuring consideringly to herself at others, but she stops when Len pauses, and the way her face softens, presumably at the stupid smile Len can’t seem to wipe from his face, tells Len he doesn’t have to explain.

 

“I know the feeling,” she says quietly, and Len doesn’t miss the way her eyes catch on the elegant band on her own finger. She shakes her head in the next moment, and sends a dazzling grin toward Len. “I think I know just the ring. Do you know his ring size?”

 

-x-

 

Living with another person is both everything and nothing like Len expects.

 

On one hand, it’s ridiculously easy—slotting the pieces of his life alongside Barry’s comes as naturally as breathing, as uncomplicated as _being_ with Barry is, and the quiet simplicity of their lives together dumbfounds Len more than he’d like to admit, even with the thrill of something that feels a lot like complete and utter _contentment_ running through him.

 

On the other hand…

 

Barry moves around in his sleep.

 

A _lot_.

 

Len awakens with a jolt, a sharp pain erupting on the side of his head and jarring him from the depth of his slumber, and it’s only after blinking fuzzily to himself for several long minutes that he realizes Barry has sprawled out ridiculously, rolled over, and accidentally punched Len with one outstretched limb, all while still deeply asleep.

 

Len groans to himself, quietly because he doesn’t want to wake Barry no matter how much pain he’s in, and rolls to his other side, attempts to put the incident (the fourth such one this week, but who’s counting?) from his mind as he tries to fall back asleep.

 

An hour and a half later, and he’s still no closer to sleep, though next to him Barry is still out like a light. He tries to be annoyed, but the snuffling little snore Barry always makes when he sleeps on his back brings a reluctant smile to Len’s lips—he ends up half-exasperated with himself but mostly just endeared to the man snoozing obliviously away beside him.

 

Len decides to cut his losses, extracts himself carefully from the mess of sheets and extra blankets, and moves out to the living room. The couch is more than comfortable enough, with plenty of throws and afghans for the express purpose of keeping him warm, and he’s pretty sure he left his book out here somewhere, he’s been meaning to make some headway on it…

 

When Len next rouses, it’s to long fingers stroking softly across his shoulders and his head pillowed on a soft lap, the greyish light of the pre-dawn morning filtering in through the windows, and the muted glow and sounds coming from the television. He groans a little, stretches out the kinks from falling asleep on the couch, and the fingers pause, just briefly, before Barry leans over him and places a soft kiss at his temple, right over the sore spot.

 

“You really should just tie me up before we go to sleep,” he murmurs, and Len can hear the regret and self-loathing in his voice. He reaches a hand up to cup Barry’s face gently, smooth his fingertips over the furrow in his brows, still hazy with sleep but determined to pull Barry up from his melancholy mood.

 

“How ’bout I just tie you up right now,” he rasps out, and he calls it a win when Barry huffs in exasperation, rolling his eyes but with a fond, silly smile playing at his lips. Len lets his hand fall, satisfied, then turns his attention to the TV, blinking blearily at the brightness. “What are you watching,” he mumbles—the fuzz of sleep still clings to his mind, and he forces the words through the cottony feeling in his mouth.

 

Barry grins sheepishly, gestures with the spoon Len is only now realizing is in his other hand—angling his head a bit, Len can see a bowl full to the brim with garishly bright cereal resting against Barry’s other leg. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I was getting bored,” he explains apologetically. “So I started channel surfing, and…” He gestures again, smiling brilliantly. “Animaniacs was on.”

 

Len squints at the TV again, watching as a ridiculously cartoony grim reaper says, with an even more ridiculously cartoony accent, _“I haven’t lost at checkers since time began.”_

 

“I don’t remember this episode,” he comments, just as Yakko asks, _“When was that?”_

 

 _“I think it was a Tuesday—very few people know that,”_ the grim reaper says, and Barry snorts out a laugh. “Really?” he asks between giggles. “Wakko dies during a meatball-eating contest in Sweden, and Dot and Yakko play a game of checkers with the Grim Reaper to get him back.”

 

“Why checkers?”

 

“Because they don’t know how to play chess.” Barry scoops a large bite of cereal into his mouth, munching loudly, and Len shakes his head disbelievingly, turning his attention back to the nonsense on TV. He burrows back into Barry’s lap contentedly, letting himself be lulled by the muted animation in front of him and the fingers trailing soothingly along his arm, and thinks to himself that he’d let Barry accidentally hit him in his sleep every night, if he got to spend every morning like this one.

 

-x-

 

“So? What do you think?”

 

Barry casts his gaze around the small hall, speculative, as he and Len twirl languidly—their first dance as a married couple, and that fact makes Barry dizzy with giddiness. “Not bad,” he manages casually, though the way Len smirks at him tells Barry his husband— _his husband_ —isn’t fooled, not in the slightest.

 

“ _Not bad_ ,” Len mocks quietly to himself, shaking his head. Barry grins and leans forward just a bit to kiss the tip of Len’s nose, laughing when said appendage wrinkles and Len glares at him for throwing off the rhythm of their dancing.

 

“It’s amazing,” Barry concedes softly, grin gentling into something soft and fond. “This entire day… all of it, it’s been incredible. Everything I could’ve imagined.”

 

“Oh, so you’ve always dreamed of falling in love with your alter ego’s nemesis and marrying him?”

 

Barry smacks Len’s shoulder, unable to keep himself from laughing, seeing the joy and mischief sparkling in his husband’s— _his husband’s_ —eyes. “Shut up. I didn’t marry my nemesis.”

 

“No?”

 

“No, you ridiculous child.” Len scoffs at him, raising an incredulous eyebrow at Barry calling _him_ the child, but Barry ploughs on regardless. “I married the love of my life.”

 

The mirthful light in Len’s eyes brightens at that, mouth softening into the softest, fondest smile Barry’s ever seen his husband— _his husband_ —give him, and the upward quirk of their lips only hinders them marginally as they kiss and the crowd of their families and friends applaud and catcall wildly.

 

(Len only complains mildly, threatening to ice them all only once, and Barry takes that as a win.)

 

-x-

 

Barry’s not really sure what he’s doing here.

 

(Not _here_ in the physical sense, face first in Leonard Snart’s lap, lips sucking hard at the thick head of Leonard Snart’s cock, Leonard Snart’s strong legs wrapped around his shoulders—he absolutely knows what he’s doing here, reducing Leonard Snart to this state, writhing in pleasure, moaning unabashedly, fingers clawing at the wrinkled and stained sheets underneath him, and he is enjoying every second of it.)

 

No, _here_ in the broader sense, and perhaps the worst part is that he’s not regretting a single second of what brought him to this point.

 

They’ve been doing this—sneaking around, meeting up for frenzied rounds of rushed but still mind-blowing sex, a secret liaison of harried handjobs and messy copulation—they’ve been doing this _thing_ for a little over six months now, both an eternity and no time at all, and each time they get together, it feels a little more intimate, a little less like a casual fling and a little more like something serious, something _real_.

 

(They had actually met up for dinner last week, a late-night rendezvous after one of Barry’s exhaustive patrols through the city, and while eating together is nothing new to them, this had marked the first time the night _didn’t_ end in mutual orgasms, only a comfortable, semi-heated kiss and the promise of something _more_ later, before they went their separate ways—and Barry’s not really sure what to make of that.)

 

Barry would have called the entire affair between them off long before now—and he gets the feeling Len would have, too—if not for the fact that being with Len is better than any drug, dangerously thrilling, sweetly addictive, and so much more fulfilling than anything Barry could ever have dreamed.

 

Barry knows enough about himself to know how completely in over his head he is.

 

He thinks that, this time, he may be okay with drowning.

 

“So what’s on your mind?” Len inquires later, lazily tracing invisible swirling patterns across the bare expanse of Barry’s hip as they— _not cuddle_ , Barry tells himself firmly. _Lay together after an intense session of fornication, that’s all_.

 

“What do you mean?” Barry asks around a yawn.

 

“I _mean_ , you’ve been preoccupied since you got here.” Len’s voice sounds amused underneath the thin veneer of annoyance, and Barry sends him an upside-down grin from his resting place on Len’s leg.

 

“Are you saying the sex was subpar?” he teases, and Len scoffs impatiently.

 

“The sex was incredible, as you well know—you give excellent blowjobs, you know this, stop fishing for compliments.” Barry preens slightly at the praise nonetheless, and the corners of Len’s mouth turn up almost imperceptibly, though he shakes it away with a frown after only a moment. “You’re stalling.”

 

Barry sighs, reaching a hand up to card it through his hair absentmindedly, and he takes interest in the way Len shudders when the tips of his hair brush against the soft skin of the inside of his still-naked thigh, though his dick is entirely too spent to do more than just barely twitch. “I dunno, just… thinking, I guess.”

 

“About?”

 

Barry frowns at the way Len’s fingers have paused in their ministrations, tense against him despite the ever-present level of calm in his voice. “Us… _this_. Whatever it was that brought us to this point. Just, you know, stuff.”

 

Len’s eyes tighten infinitesimally, though his fingers continue their track after a weighty pause—Barry tries to tell himself to not get too affected by the delicate touch, but judging by the way it takes him several lengthy seconds to even think to chastise himself, it’s by far a losing battle.

 

“And what _do_ you think? About all of this… stuff?”

 

Len lifts his hand from Barry’s skin to accentuate his words, gesturing airily, and Barry immediately misses the warmth that had radiated from each point of contact. He ignores the sudden ache in his chest and tries, in vain, to put what he’s thinking into actual words.

 

“That it—we’ve got a good thing going, I think—I don’t know?”

 

“You don’t know.”

 

The flat note of Len’s tone sets Barry on edge, makes his response perhaps a bit snappier, more defensive than he means it to sound. “Well, what do _you_ think of all this?” He sits up fully, missing the simple comfort of laying together— _fine, cuddling_ , he admits to himself irritably—with Len already but determined to see this conversation through to the end, turning to face the other man warily.

 

Len presses his lips together firmly. “I asked first.”

 

What are they, five? Barry refrains from rolling his eyes, but only just. “Answer the question, Len. Just _what_ is this—this _affair_ , to you?”

 

“Is it really important, what I think of us _fucking_?” Len grinds out, and Barry—Barry snaps.

 

“It’s important to _me_!” he bursts out, not quite shouting but close. Len blinks, taken aback, but Barry is so worked up he can’t even savor the very rare surprise, plain to see on Len’s face. “This, all of this, whatever it is we’re doing, it’s _important_ , and…” Barry sighs, frenetic energy suddenly gone, leaving him exhausted in its absence. “And I guess I hoped it was for you, too, because I… I don’t want this to end.”

 

He falls silent at that, eyes roving over the trail of their mixed clothing littering the floor, reluctant to look at Len now, afraid of his reaction to Barry’s impromptu confession, certain that his words have, ironically, brought an end to their dalliance together. A hand on his chin shocks him, and he gazes up uncertainly into still-wide blue eyes. “I don’t, either,” Len whispers haltingly, hand moving to wrap around the back of Barry’s neck, extraordinarily hesitant. It takes Barry an embarrassingly long time to grasp the meaning of Len’s words, and by the time he realizes that maybe this is something that Len wants, too, he has to keep from pinching himself, because surely this has all got to be a dream?

 

“Really?” Barry whispers, loathe to pierce the fragile _something_ between them now. Len laughs, a little too loud but Barry revels in the sound, carefree and light and ridiculously relieved. He stares at the smile slowly creeping its way onto Len’s face, small but inexplicably fond, eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, and the sudden rush of emotion that fills him when he realizes just how open Len is being with him, how open Len _has been_ with him, all this time, both delights and terrifies him, because he knows without a hint of doubt now that he is exceedingly in love with this man, and he knows that this could either be the greatest or most disastrous thing that’s ever happened to him.

 

“Really,” Len says, and it sounds like a promise spilling from his lips.

 

-x-

 

The room they’re holding the ceremony in is small but lavishly decorated—Iris and Lisa had had an absolute ball, coordinating floral arrangements and seating patterns, handling every last detail of the ceremony and wrangling every last minute into a firm yet manageable schedule; Len and Barry had been very suitably impressed with their Best Woman and Maid of Honor, and everyone else had been beyond blown away by the absolutely magnificent scene as they entered the room and took their seats.

 

Len can’t focus on any of that now, though, has nothing in his mind except for the breathtaking view standing right in front of him. Barry Allen is one long lean line of perfection, tuxedo tailored impeccably and not a single windswept hair out of place, and the crooked grin adorning his plush lips and the heat in his eyes as he drinks in Len’s own form are for Len’s appreciating eyes only.

 

Standing before them, Martin Stein clears his throat gently. “Dearly beloved,” he begins, “cherished families and friends, welcome. We gather here today to celebrate the joyful union of these two exceptional men…”

 

“Hey,” Barry whispers softly under the soothing drone of Stein’s voice, and Len can’t keep himself from smiling.

 

“Hey yourself,” he whispers back, and Barry grins goofily.

 

“You ready for this?”

 

“Been ready.” He’s never meant anything more, sincerity ringing through his hushed tone, and Barry beams even more brightly. (Len is sure his smile is derived from actual sunshine, and nothing will ever convince him differently.)

 

(Barry has used analogies like this in the past, likening Len’s own smile, the small one he only allows to shine through around Barry, to the sun peeking through on a cloudy day, all the more precious because it’s rarer than a double rainbow, and honestly that’s as far as he had gotten before Len had pounced on him, completely overcome with emotion and so incredibly turned on by Barry Allen, poet extraordinaire.)

 

(That’s the night he proposes, completely spontaneously, whispering the words behind Barry’s ear as they lay together blissfully, taking comfort from the simplicity of their embrace. Barry only laughs softly, teases Len for not putting much thought into his supposed proposal, and is thoroughly blindsided when Len gets up and stalks off with a huff, quickly rooting around in his underwear drawer before returning to Barry, kneeling by the edge of the bed and asking again, this time holding out a small box.)

 

(Barry cries. Len likes to bring this up frequently, both because he likes to see Barry flustered and because the way Barry smiles when he thinks of that night fills Len’s heart with more love than he has ever thought possible.)

 

“Gentlemen?” Martin’s prompting brings him back to the present, to the fruit of their labors, the culmination of their hard work and toil and _love_ , gesturing kindly. “If you may?”

 

Barry grins sheepishly at the man, accepting Len’s ring from Iris behind him before turning all of his attention to Len, grabbing his left hand and holding it in his grasp gently.

 

“Leonard Snart,” he says carefully, nervously, and Len smiles encouragingly. Barry clears his throat once, smiling back before continuing. “I take you as you are, loving who you are now and who you are yet to become. I will celebrate your triumphs and mourn your losses as though they are my own. I will laugh with you in times of joy, and comfort you in times of sorrow. I will share in your dreams, and support you as you strive to achieve your goals. I will listen to you with compassion and understanding, and speak to you with encouragement. Whenever you need me, I will rush to your side, as quickly as I am able. Let us be partners, friends and lovers, today and all of the days that follow.” He slowly slides the ring onto Len’s finger, and once the band is snug he strokes it once, reverently, before looking back up at Len and grinning hugely, a hint of tears sparkling in his bright eyes.

 

Len can only stare in wonder, overwhelmed by the genuine sincerity and love in Barry’s voice, so easy to hear in every word as he recites his vows from memory. He leans in, unable to stop himself from brushing his lips across Barry’s softly before forcing himself away, and when he turns to accept Barry’s ring from Lisa, he takes a long moment to compose himself before turning around, taking Barry’s hand and bringing it to his lips before beginning his own vows.

 

“Bartholomew Allen,” he starts, and he sees Iris snicker quietly into her bouquet as Barry visibly holds back a wince. “Barry,” he says; Barry smiles, and Len smiles back helplessly. “I love you, unconditionally and without hesitation. I will love you when we are together, and I will love you in times when we are apart. I vow to love you, to encourage you, to trust you and respect you always. I promise to laugh with you, cry with you, and grow with you. I promise to support your dreams and to respect our differences, and I promise to work with you to foster and cherish a relationship of equality, knowing that together we will build a life far better than either of us could imagine alone. Today, I choose you to be my partner, my husband, and I will love you and be by your side through all the days and nights of our lives.” Len breathes in once, lets it out slowly, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him—he feels one of Lisa’s small hands rubbing his back reassuringly, and that helps enormously, grounds him in the moment—as he carefully fits the band onto Barry’s finger.

 

Barry smiles brilliantly, blinding Len with stunningly bright emotion even as tears trickle down his cheeks, and doesn’t even wait for Martin to finish the ceremony before throwing himself forward, trusting Len to catch him as he crushes their lips together for the first time as husbands.

 

_I do, I do, I do._

 

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. in case you're curious: [Barry's ring](http://pepl.imageg.net/graphics/product_images/pZALEPEPL1-8856855t400.jpg) | [Len's ring](https://img1.etsystatic.com/032/0/8763289/il_214x170.591632335_wxk2.jpg)
> 
> (come ~~cry to me about wedding nonsense~~ spaz out with me on [tumblr](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com)!)


End file.
